


Blood Red Jam

by underworlds



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Roxas, Butt Plugs, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Irish Axel, Knives, M/M, Mob Boss Axel, Power Dynamics, Restraints, Rich Axel, Roxas gets off on Axel working, Somnophilia, Stockings, Top Axel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29624625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underworlds/pseuds/underworlds
Summary: When you’re the owner of the city’s ritziest casino resort, built on the blood money of your generational crime family, and you’ve had a long day of meetings and maiming, you want to go home to something sweet.Roxas is that something sweet.
Relationships: Axel/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Blood Red Jam

**Author's Note:**

> Completely inspired by one of Shaky’s gorgeous, spicy artworks because she keeps us so well fed in the Discord.

The fortified door to the dark penthouse opened in a slice of golden light. Outside, on either side of the doorway, stood two exceptionally large, intimidating, stony-faced men in dark jackets that barely contained their prominent biceps and barrel chests. If they were less deliberately tailored, the hems of their blazers could easily shift and offer a glimpse of the pistols resting at each of their belts. However, they made no move to reach for said firearms as a tall, loudly albeit well-dressed, man laughed over his shoulder and strode between them and into the penthouse like he owned the place. 

Which he did.

Axel McCarty, without mincing words, owned not only the casino atop which this penthouse sat, but anyone with any sense would tell you the same thing - he owned this city. Dressed in a fitted, carmine Tom Ford suit jacket, tie, and coordinated tawny slacks, Axel crossed the foyer with the click of his pointed caramel leather Bolvaint shoes against the pristine marble floor echoing in sequence. 

A member of a prominent Irish crime family, the McCartys had had their hand around the throat of this city for generations. Their method of maintaining that grip was with silver tongues and further silver in the form of barrels, blades, and with the blood money that sustained the tourism and economy. The Chakram, the renowned hotel and casino that stood as the not particularly subtle seat of the inner family, towered over the bustling, crowded strip as a constant reminder of the McCarty influence over the city. 

With his older brother Reno back in the homeland for an extended business trip, Axel had assumed his additional responsibilities around the casino and within the empire, both above and below ground. Below is precisely where he’d spent the last couple hours, in one of the inconspicuously hidden rooms with another one of the delusionally misguided patrons who had been under the impression that they could pull a fast one at the tables. It was hardly a hushed rumor that doing so was a very bad idea, a suicide wish, but there was always someone who overestimated their own cunning.

The Chakram towered high above the glittering strip below where faceless tourists and almost equally wallpaper-like locals meandered like the ants they were through a maze of diamonds and paste. Many found themselves caught up in the gilded glitz, the seductive siren song of the slot machines, and satisfying shuffling and dealing of cards, the ever-flowing cocktails, the friendly, scantily clad select staff, and the less unspoken and more bellowed reminder that this is a town of excess, they should take it in, bask in it completely, enjoy themselves.

The trouble was, by the end of the tourists’ stay, most of them would also end up finding themselves waist to eyeball deep in that excess. And excess is never free. Everything has a price. Much like the man he’d had hauled into the private underground room learned. By this time, if he wasn’t already unconscious from blood loss on the sidewalk, he had to be trying to hail a cab in a desperate flight to the nearest hospital. Perhaps if he was more intelligent than he’d proved to be at trying to cheat, he would have thought to seek out a few cups of ice from the closest bar before his hasty exit. Otherwise, it was unlikely the three fingers Axel had severed from each hand would be able to be re-attached. 

While Axel enjoyed drawing out educational consequences, often to a bloody end that resulted in Lexeaus and Xigbar having to dispose of the meat that had once been a man, he’d already let the work day drag on longer than intended and was late returning home to the penthouse at the top of The Chakram. Its sleek reflective exterior mirroring the cityscape’s image, almost blending in with the night sky, would soon sear itself into the corneas of the addle-brained ants below. 

One of the notable design features of the Chakram was its iconic light show, when the dark mirror would seemingly be consumed by flames that lanced up the length of the building, bright and violent, like a funeral pyre. It was all clever light works, timers, and engineering of course, but there’d always be someone frantically dialing 911 to alert the authorities to a horrific blaze that threatened to swallow the strip. Axel personally felt that the inherent annoyance to the dispatchers each of these recurrent calls made was fairly compensated for in their ‘donations’ to the local precincts.

Axel brushed a fingertip over the touch-sensitive light panel as he entered the spacious kitchen, soft light blooming over the dark marble countertops and breakfast bar where a bottle of wine sat. Lightly tugging at the knot of his tie with one hand, Axel turned over the cardstock note beside the bottle and skimmed the lettering with an amused quirk of his lips before taking up the bottle. His Left Hand, Larxene, must have encountered the would-be-thief, for the message read:

_If you wanted to add a Jackson Polock to the bar in the east wing, you could have just said so. With that being said, I approve of your artistic vision, it was sweet of you to leave both middle fingers for him to shove up his ass._

Axel’s lips quirked in amusement while reading the note and he turned over the bottle of wine that accompanied it with an appraising glance. While the redhead was true to his roots as a connoisseur of whiskey and bourbon, he liked something sweet at the end of the night. Retrieving a Waterford flute from the cabinet, noting the time on the digital appliance clock, he dispensed the dark, aromatic burgundy wine into the glass. Axel had been busy working during the timed 8 PM fire show that enveloped the building from ground floor to this very penthouse, but 1 AM was creeping up and promising its expected encore.

Rounding the breakfast bar, rotating his glass before taking the first delicious sip, the man exited the kitchen towards the well-decorated and equally sleek living room. The far wall of the room was occupied by dark full length windows that would soon flare with the encore’s effects. Axel crossed the room with only the light from the city’s night landscape to illuminate, to stand in front of the window and observe the flicker of dots that whimpered the existence of other smaller, submissive casinos and hotels, the smatter of corporate offices, tourist traps, landmarks, more affordable venues, and businesses. They fanned out across the horizon into affluent neighborhoods, gated communities, to the gentrified, and over to the lower-income areas Axel was also well acquainted with.

He took it in with all the detached pride of a monarch, or as close as someone of his upbringing and line of work could. The light cast on his sharp features and the twin teardrop tattoos on his cheeks, highlighted the length of the day. Strands of his red hair had loosened from the knot at the top of his head and hung along his temples while he played surgeon and the droop of his eyelids indicated a necessary heavy sleep in the near future. He rolled his shoulders beneath his suit jacket, rotated his neck until he heard a satisfying crack that made him sigh in relief. Axel took another long sip of wine, the expensive liquid coating his tongue and teeth with its sweet veneer, only to abruptly notice another faint sound in the room with him - the sound of breathing. 

Ordinarily his hand would subtly drop to his own pocket, where his switchblade waited as always, or twitch towards one of the multiple hiding places a firearm was stored. But in here, there was no need for collected panic and defense, especially when he knew precisely who else must be in the living room. Instead, he looked over his left shoulder towards the couch, upon which there was the curled silhouette of a body. Axel’s answering white smirk at the mostly obscured but unmistakable sight, lit by the artificial lights across the horizon, was both soft and sharp, all signs of weariness absent. He turned and approached the couch with quiet steps, taking a strong sip and brushing his hand over another wall panel that lit the dim lights on either side of the room. When he stopped at the arm of the couch, smiling over the rim of his glass, he took in the sight below him with far more excitement and fondness than he had the entirety of the city.

The naked form of a slight but lean young man was arranged comfortably on his sofa. Blonde spikes of hair cascaded across one of the dark pillows against which the boy had nestled his sleeping head. Perching on the arm, Axel’s jade gaze traveled the length of his dozing form: from the long dark gold eyelashes that rested against soft sun-kissed cheeks, the slightly parted kitten pink lips, down the curve of his thin decisively collared neck, over the bare bronze slope of his shoulder and along the seductive line of his spine until it disappeared in a tangle of blankets.

By the way he was arranged on his side, the boy had clearly dozed off during one of those treasured pastimes of ‘just resting my eyes’. Axel chuckled again, watching the easy rhythm of the beautiful boy’s breathing as he slept while he took his time drinking from his glass. His gaze rested heavily, purposefully, on the dark leather that circled the boy’s neck. The collar itself was artfully crafted, tight, but loose enough to be comfortable, and studded. It fit around the boy’s neck like it was meant to be there, which in Axel’s opinion, it was, which is why he put it there. He could see the loose drape of a thin black leash attached to it. When there was about half of the glass left, or rather when the boy shifted in sleep and in doing so allowed the blanket to slide farther down his body, revealing the sliver of an equally bronze hip and the slightest curve of his bare ass, Axel had enough.

“Roxas,” he called quietly, other hand dropping to lightly drag the tips of his calloused fingers along the boy’s temple. It was only after his second call, when his fingers traveled from his soft cheek down to his plump, tempting bottom lip that the boy stirred back to slow awareness. Axel felt a faint smugness at that. Roxas wasn’t a particularly deep sleeper and he could remember those nights in the past when it would have been laughable to even consider Roxas being comfortable enough, so stubborn as to not allow himself to be vulnerable enough, to fall asleep in this apartment. Lack of control was something Roxas instinctively balked at, and handing over that control was something he didn’t know could feel so right, could provide so much relief, until he met Axel.

Now he opened his eyes with all the leisure of someone who felt right at home. Axel waited, smile still in place as he watched and continued to brush one ringed hand against the blonde’s cheek, meeting the dark blue ocean of his eye when complete consciousness returned.

“Got sleepy waiting up for me, love?” The boy turned his face into the touch with a sweet but groggy murmur of affirmation. “M’sorry,” Axel chuckled, words that plenty of people could never even fathom hearing from his lips. “Didn't expect to be so late, but I had some delicate matters to attend to.”

Roxas’s blue eyes dilated in alertness at that information, knowing precisely what Axel meant by those words. To highlight that perception, he caught the tip of the redhead’s finger between his lips and brushed the point of his tongue over the pad, undoubtedly thinking about just how red Axel’s hands must have been before coming home. Axel smirked at the image, well aware of how his messier job requirements had an effect on the younger man, just as how Roxas was aware how what he was doing, the coy and soft teasing, had an effect on the boss.

“And what a good boy,” Axel praised in his brogue, pulling his hand from Roxas’s lips to drag his knuckles along his shoulder, down the line of his body he could reach, Roxas arching into the contact like a cat. “Waitin’ for me just like I asked.”

When he’d gotten ready to leave the penthouse this morning, dropping his lips beside a sated, panting Roxas’s ear where he was still tangled in the dark sheets of the California king after their quickie, he’d told him of his expectations for his return home. 

_“When I get back, I want you waiting for me just like this,” he’d told the blonde in a husky voice, his fingers collecting some of the wetness spattered across the boy’s heaving chest in their slow drag up Roxas’s breastbone to deposit it along the boy’s already wet mouth. “Collar and leash on, like a good boy.”_

Leaving Roxas flushed in the bedroom with the taste of his own come in his mouth while he straightened his tie and left had been the highlight of the morning, after the sex of course, and he spent much of the day thinking excitedly back to what waited for him at home. That was the something sweet he wanted to end his night with.

As far as his orders went, this wasn’t the most extreme nor the most torturous. There had been other times when Axel had left Roxas in that same bed for hours - hands bound, a spreader bar secured at his ankles, and a vibrator whirring purposefully inside him, driving the blonde to the point of resigned insanity before he returned. Roxas was a stubborn kid and Axel so enjoyed making him beg. However, given his own tardiness and the late hour, Axel decided that he wouldn’t put the boy through too much torture this evening. After all, he’d done enough of that today. And Roxas looked so tempting, still a little sluggish with sleep, a soft cream colored blanket draped around his thighs to his feet, but with electric eyes that were so blue and zeroed in.

Perched as he was on the arm of the couch, it was impossible not to notice that Roxas’s focus was narrowed on the stretch of his tawny slacks where the inseam met his crotch, the creases doing little to camouflage his sizable, growing arousal. In the moment of deja vu, harkening back to this morning when Roxas disrupted his getting dressed into this very outfit, Axel laughed.

“Nothing’s changed since this morning huh?” Axel smirked, amused. “Still hungry for it, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir.” Roxas replied, lids heavy, tongue unconsciously gliding along his lower lip. “But some things change…”

Axel cocked his head curiously at this unexpected development in their game. “Whaddaya mean by that, love?” He did note that Roxas had that face, the one where he was trying to repress a wry, impish smile, when he knew something that whoever he was talking to didn’t. God, he loved that face. 

“Does anything look out of place?” Roxas asked almost casually enough, like he was waiting for Axel to make it from one dot to the next.

Axel’s gaze scanned the boy again, from his sleep mussed hair that he was planning on getting a handful of, that mischievous face, his collar, and to the nude canvas of his torso still flushed with marks from their earlier activities. Roxas withdrew from Axe’s touch like a tide, it was only a matter of time until he returned, and situated himself sitting at the opposite end of the couch with his back to the arm. He stretched out under the blanket, probably the least expensive item in the room, handmade by Roxas’s childhood friend Namine, the white slopes of his bent knees rising slightly as he got comfortable. 

The boss’s hand, a hand that had been stained scarlet more times than he could count, which had ended almost as many lives, grasped the soft, pristine, handmade edge of the blanket and tugged it. Axel’s wine coated throat went dry and the head of the bulge in his slacks noticeably twitched when he arrived at the belated point Roxas was coaxing him toward. 

“Am I in trouble for improvising, sir?” Roxas asked, innocent expression breaking into a cocky grin, nude save for sheer black thigh high stockings that had been revealed.

“In trouble?” Axel chuckled through his groan. “Darlin’, you are trouble.”

Roxas’s grin was bright and smug, the same as it was the first day they met, when Axel decided that he wanted and would absolutely get the intriguing boy in his bed, one way or another. Roxas had made the game fun, surprised him in ways he hadn’t expected, just like tonight. Now it was hard to leave said bed come morning, especially with Roxas in his proper place within the warm, luxury sheets, his fingers carding through Axel’s loose, fiery hair.

“But to be fair,” Axel began with an ominous tone before rising from the opposite sofa arm and walking away from Roxas, toward the chair across the room. “Some of the best performances are ad libbed. And after neglectin’ my sunshine all evening, I suppose I should expect a little trouble...” 

Roxas watched him attentively, head turning in small degrees to follow the boss’s path. The older man was used to people tracking his movements around a room, often with a look of apprehension or fear, the same way one would try to keep an eye on a dangerous, unpredictable, circling predatory animal at all times. Axel did an exceptional job of maintaining that reputation, but he was also no stranger to stares of fascination, of lust, of excitement. That was more in line with how Roxas watched him now. However, there was something else in Roxas’s eyes, something that was unique to him, and Axel would burn the city if it meant keeping it all for himself.

Axel sank into the armchair with all the smooth, powerful entitlement of a big cat. He spread his legs in a wide, comfortable sprawl, expertly tailored slacks stretching accordingly along the inseams, a king on his throne. Even the loose strands of his characteristic red hair that had escaped from the tie at the top of his head fell obediently on either side of his sharp face to pool at his collarbones, resting against the stark white of the dress shirt beneath his gold-buttoned suit jacket. The gems and matching gold bands of the rings on his left hand, which was draped over the arm of the chair, caught the overhead lighting while his right idly, almost carelessly, cradled the flute of burgundy.

He took his time, swirled the contents of wine with a flex of his wrist before bringing the rim to his lips, and sipping in time with the slightest of crooks of the index finger of his resting hand, a beckon. A command to anyone who knew what was good for them. His eyes, Bengal green as any tiger’s, were open in lazy upturned slits, as he tracked Roxas’s immediate drop to the floor from the sofa, his crawling movements across the floor in response to the gesture. 

Axel swallowed with relish that was not solely due to the taste or caliber of the wine. From each sway of the boy’s slim, bare hips, each finger that minutely curled into the strands of the plush carpeting, the way the thin black leash attached to his expensive, studded, leather collar trailed over his shoulder, down his back, and behind him like ink, to the way the boy’s own befuddlingly blue eyes were utterly focused, unwavering, on him. He didn’t look away, didn’t look down at the floor once as he crawled towards Axel, didn’t even seem to register that he was completely naked save for the sheer black thigh-highs that had Axel gliding the tip of his tongue along his own canines hungrily.

The blonde boy settled between his spread legs, antsy, looking at the erection against Axel’s thigh that was straining through his trousers, but he didn’t lunge for it yet. He had manners. When he wanted something. Axel happily let him squirm for a few more sips, observing how the overhead lighting made the edges and curves of his body gleam in the otherwise dim room.

“However,” Axel began, picking up the conversation again. He noted how Roxas’s eyes snapped up from his crotch to his face at the sound of his voice. With his free hand he tipped up Roxas’s chin further and studied him, like a jeweler appraising a sapphire. “I can’t be too soft on you now can I?”

Roxas held his stare, but Axel didn’t miss the subtle twitch of his brow, which wordlessly scoffed at the mere notion of Axel taking it easy on him. They both knew full well that Axel put the younger man through all manner of exhausting, daunting tasks on the regular. The fact that those feats were often of a sexual nature was a bonus, and Axel so enjoyed watching Roxas impressively rise to the occasion, sometimes out of sheer stubbornness. They also both knew that Roxas saw a side of Axel that no one else had the privilege of, even if that softness was still spattered scarlet. 

The redhead’s crooked smile quirked and his words were reminiscent of a business meeting. “And I’ve reached a decision that I believe will leave us both satisfied. Fetch the blanket for me.”

Roxas’s expression was rendered dumbfounded, if not a little suspicious, but he didn’t argue, and he didn’t even make an attempt to stand up to carry out his assigned task. He crawled back towards the sofa, giving Axel the most decadent view of his round ass and the flared base of a plug nestled in his hole. The boss was all for drawing out games, but from the tightness of his trousers and the only worsening hardness of his cock, his own patience was going to be tested, especially with such a tantalizing sight before him.

“Not that one,” Axel called over the rim of his glass, watching Roxas listen and take the other, undisturbed white and navy blanket from the back of the sof rather than the handmade, cream colored one.

The blonde crawled back, dragging the blanket along with him across the carpet. Roxas passed him the fabric, some inconsequential throw that was included as a gift for reaching a spending bracket in a single purchase the last time he was at a certain department store, and watched with delight as Axel withdrew the silver kiss of his switchblade from his pocket. Roxas’s response to that knife was practically hardwired now, and his breath came quicker, his cheeks flushed pinker, and his own sex stood at attention, when Axel efficiently and confidently sliced a white strip from the blanket.

_“You’re going soft, it’d be a shame if that’s the pathetic reason you get killed,” Saix, his Right Hand, had accused him a few months back, after the however many tallied time Axel arrived late to a meeting or a murder, too preoccupied by whatever he and Roxas had been doing. The chill that swept past that rooftop wasn’t just because of the wind._

_Axel remembered one of the newer guards visibly paling at Saix words, looking between Axel and Saix like there might be an additional gruesomely dismembered body to dispose of that night. The list of people that could speak to him like that, so bluntly and with such attitude, was incredibly small after all, unheard of to most everyone but those very people._

_Axel had his back to the both of them, facing the city lights that almost washed out the stars, didn’t reply, and the silence was only broken by the piercing scream of a body freefalling to a guaranteed death. When Axel looked over his shoulder, hands shoved comfortably deep in his pockets like he didn’t just kick a person from the top of the building, he smirked._

_“Going soft isn’t really a problem for me, if you know what I mean.”_

Axel dismissed that memory, grateful Saix was accompanying Reno overseas and unable to irritate him for the next few days, and tested the give of the fabric when stretched. Satisfied, he smiled darkly down at Roxas, tossing the bulk of the remaining blanket to the side.

“Hands behind your back.”

Roxas’s comprehension piqued at that and he shuffled back into position on his knees between Axel’s legs for a second before drawing both wrists behind himself to rest at the small of his back. Sure, they had proper restraints back in the bedroom, but spontaneity was the spice of life. Axel deposited his dwindling glass on the end table and bent forward in his seat to assess Roxas’s positioning. Taking hold of the leash connected to the collar, Axel gave an angled tug that had Roxas slumping further towards his front, until his cheek pressed to the top of Axel’s thigh. The redhead could both feel and hear Roxas’s excited breathing there, how he took a deep, searching inhale of the musk no doubt radiating from between Axel’s legs, so close he could almost taste it.

Axel deftly bound the thin, bronze wrists with the fabric, applying a knot like muscle memory, taking just as much time to appreciate the view of Roxas as the boy was of him in this position. He let his own palms drag up the length of Roxas’s taut arms, down his spine in a languid glide, to squeeze one asscheek. He felt Roxas’s humid breath against the stretch of fabric that covered the head of his cock and tugged the cheek to the side to toy with the end of the plug in retaliation.

Roxas stiffened suddenly at that before going limp against Axel’s thigh, suppressing the urge to roll his hips into that delicious teasing tide. Axel pressed the plug deeper into him a few more times, satisfied he wouldn’t have to waste more moonlight preparing the younger man. He rose up to his full height in the seat, the back of the chair meeting the back of his skull, and looked down at Roxas, who’s cheek was resting on his thigh.

Axel picked up his glass again, let his attention linger on the swirl of dark liquid, before inquiring, “Do you want something, Rox?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Roxas nodded, his lips so close to what Axel knew full well he wanted, what he was taking his time withholding from him.

“Let me guess,” he smirked over the glass. “You want something in that pretty mouth, huh?”

“Please, sir.” Roxas nuzzled his cheek against the hard flesh straining through him the slacks. “Please can I suck your cock?”

“Show me,” Axel ordered, tone sharpened. “Show me how much you want it.”

He watched with rapt anticipation as Roxas laved his pink tongue against the expensive fabric of his trousers, darkening the fabric with his saliva, and suckling at the well-mapped head he’d been fixated on. Axel took a languid sip or his wine, savored the image of Roxas mouthing at him, compensating for his inability to use his hands for support, his toes curling in the feet of the black stockings. He let him continue like that, until the fabric was dark chestnut, Roxas’s cheek pink with friction, and his own arousal was angry with the stifled contact. 

With his free hand he unbuttoned his trousers, noticing Roxas’s excited and slightly huffy expression that said ‘finally’ without words, and drew his flushed, hard length through the slit in his briefs. He held it at the base, relieving some of the fury by slowly jacking himself, looking between Roxas’s ravenous gaze and the bead of precum that his world was narrowed to. 

He chuckled. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

Roxas lunged.

Quick as a bullet, the boy’s lips were stretched around his cock. Axel hissed through his grin, the wet tightness well worth the wait. Soon, there was drool pooling at the corners of Roxas’s lips and dripping down his chin as he bobbed his head with a hungry determination, in spite of his bound hands. His coy tongue tracked a well-mapped course along the vein at the underside of the older man’s length, the sloppy sounds loud in the otherwise quiet living room. His lids were heavy over the dark Pacific waters of his eyes, brows arched in an almost blissful relief at finally having his mouth filled, finally getting what he’d been waiting for all day while Axel was working.

Axel luxuriated in the feeling of the warm, wet throat contracting around his shaft when Roxas grew bolder, taking another idle sip of his wine, letting the alcoholic heat simmer in his belly and melt with the already urgent arousal each suckle only stoked. It wasn’t lost on him, the heady reality of the power he wielded, not just as the owner of this multimillion dollar building in which they were sitting, or as a businessman who just dismembered a customer an hour ago and would face no repercussions for it. It may have been that reputation, the bodies beneath his feet, that had gotten him to this position, the staggering of events that led him to even have such an angelfaced boy between his legs drooling all over his cock. 

But much of that dirty money, the expensive cars, the lavish lifestyle, the shudder his mere name provoked, that all paled in comparison to the thrill of wielding this particular power over Roxas. It was all the more thrilling because this was a power Roxas willingly gave to him, a gift he could rescind at any time. That thought, that was one Axel didn’t like to entertain the possibility of, however. Instead, he took another sip of wine and reached down to cup one side of Roxas’s face, to feel the bulge of his own cockhead through the boy’s sun kissed cheek.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he crooned, taking in Roxas’s blown pupils. “Such a pretty little cocksucker.”

Roxas hummed around his mournful, the point of his tongue digging affirmatively into Axel’s leaning slit. Axel discarded the empty wine glass and stood up abruptly. His cock slid from between Roxas’s lips with a slurp before he was purposefully and powerfully lifting Roxas to his stocking clad feet and moving him across the room. Roxas barely had the wherewithal to process what happened, finding himself standing in front of one of the windows with a jolt. All of the city lay beneath them.

One of Axel’s hands gripped his bound wrists, the other pressed him even further toward the window, the cold glass meeting his flushed chest. The blonde whined at the temperature, how it startled and hardened his nipples, and whined louder still at the subsequent tug of the plug still inside him. The boss didn’t tease this time, drew the entire toy out in one controlled pull, until Roxas heard a distant thunk that indicated Axel had likely carelessly hurled it over his shoulder. Roxas smiled at that, the glass cool against his feverish cheek.

With Roxas’s front pressed to the full length window that overlooked the city, pinned by the weight of Axel’s hand between his shoulder blades, the boss took his time admiring the sight that made the glitter of the cityscape pale in comparison. Roxas panted, swallowing the lingering taste of Axel’s precum and humming as it slid down his sore throat, breath fogging the glass. Axel slid two fingers between Roxas’s cheeks, delighting in the quiet moan the boy released as his digits easily slid into the warm clutch of his hole. He’d obviously diligently prepped himself for just this, as instructed. Axel could imagine Roxas glaring at the clock as the minutes passed without Axel’s arrival, his Boy Scout dedication going to waste. 

Axel didn’t waste time now, he lined up and sank into Roxas much like he had walked into the penthouse, like he owned him. He barely spared a moment to savor the deliciously tight heat before he was repeating the motion with more force and speed, teeth bared in a grin. The blonde wailed at the harsh pace the older man immediately set, his panting breath fogging and dissipating from the window where he could barely see his own reflection. 

Axel used the binding of Roxas’s wrists as leverage to push and pull him in time with his thrusts, watching how his ass bounced each time it made contact with Axel’s pelvis. His possessive stare trickled down from where his cock disappeared between those cheeks to the black stockings and how they made the boy’s lean legs look miles long. He liked Roxas dressed up pretty and provocative, he was practically made for it. He remembered one of the times when he’d come home late, much like tonight, to Roxas sprawled out in bed in only a pair of lacy royal blue panties, and rather than waking Roxas with a call of his name, the boy had woken up mid-fuck, his gasp of restored conscioousness and clutch of the sheets still etched in Axel’s brain.

“This is what I thought about all day,” he bent over the blonde to compensate for their height difference and grunted into Roxas’s ear, tugging on the leash to make Roxas arch further. “Fucking this tight ass, making you beg me for it, all pent up and needy.”

Roxas moaned, his vision shaky with the rhythmic jostling each thrust provoked, the city lights blurring. He rose up on his tiptoes to try to meet each stroke, providing a delectable view. He’d been hoping Axel would be like this, rough, after the hours of waiting where he had admittedly grown prickly and maybe a little needy. Each strike to his prostate reminded him that the wait was worth it. Axel grinned ferally, yanking Roxas back against him purposefully, away from the window, and let his free hand slide up the boy’s chest to cup his throat beneath his collar. “And you know what else?”

Roxas made a soft sound that Axel took as questioning and nipped at his ear to make sure he was paying attention to his low words.

“Thought about fucking this ass over the table where I cut off a cheating prick’s fingers tonight.”

He felt Roxas tremble against him, felt his pulse quicken and race against his palm as he moaned. He could have come like this, at Axel’s words and the dark danger of his voice, he had before. For as sweet and Botticelli seraphic as Roxas looked, there was a dark, viciousness beneath that porcelain, a viciousness Axel understood well, loved. There was a thirst for consequence, for the power to render those consequences, the security that power brought. It was no wonder they fit together so perfectly.

“Knew you’d like that,” Axel purred, pressing his teeth into the boy’s sculpted jawline. 

Roxas turned his head to catch Axel’s lips with his own open mouth, which Axel leaned further into. Through the deep, consuming kiss, the elder kept rolling his hips, the tension and simmer building between them only growing. He squeezed Roxas’s throat just to feel the resulting gasp against his tongue where it was tangled with the blonde’s own. 

“That’s right, baby,” Axel crooned as he pulled back, sweetness juxtaposed to the way his fingers tightened around Roxas’s neck again. “Show me how much you love that cock inside you.”

He hissed proudly through his teeth at Roxas’s answering clench, how he was trying to milk at Axel’s girth. He was perfect. And it made Axel greedy, ravenous really. The redhead braced his other hand against the window, gold cufflinks shining along with his rings, and pistoned his hips with an animal-like drive. The image of the two of them, Axel still clothed in his designer suit and towering, and Roxas nude save for the dark stockings and the sheen of sweat, small compared to Axel’s height and presence, was striking.

“Wanna come,” Roxas implored as he was thrashed, wriggling despite his restraints. “Please, Axel, lemme come.”

“Let you?” Axel intoned with a laugh, taunting, not pausing for a second, grinding deep.

“Make me!” Roxas corrected louder, attitude briefly cutting through the needy haze.

Axel chuckled and gave the beautiful boy precisely what he was asking for, pounding into him with such force that anyone with a fear of heights would be concerned about going through the window. Yet, for his ferocity, Axel kept a firm, protective hold of the whining boy, making him take everything was dispensing, but also keeping him from falling. It was then, right on schedule, that flames erupted along the window, the light show flooding the dim room and casting its fiery glow that threw Roxas into further contrast. Like an angel on fire, the gold and bronze of his body could have scalded and burned, but Axel welcomed the flames.

“Come for me, Roxas.” Axel ordered, voice taking on an edge that was as sharp and unquestionable as his blade.

Roxas did with a broken cry, the band of tension and anticipation he’d stretched for hours finally snapping as his release spurted against the window, glittering in the fire. With a snarl at the subsequent fluttering of Roxas’s muscles, Axel went for broke until his hips were juddering to a halt as his own long-overdue orgasm hit. The firelight surged around them before it too flickered and faded, the room and city falling into comparative darkness. As they caught their breath, Axel leaned his forearm against the window, his other keeping Roxas from collapsing to the carpet. He pressed kisses along the line of Roxas’s exposed neck where his head hung. Axel used the angle and opportunity to unclasp Roxas’s collar, use the connected leash to swing it to land on the sofa, and press a kiss to the nape of his neck.

“Shower?” Axel suggested in a sigh against Roxas’s ear a few moments later.

The grunt Roxas responded with was answer enough, and Axel withdrew from the warmth of the younger man’s body and pulled out his knife again to deftly sever the ties binding Roxas’s wrists. He didn’t miss the shiver that ran through his lover at the comprehension of the slice.

“Mm, like that huh?” he chuckled huskily.

“Nn,” Roxas lifted his head, glared at him from the corner of his eye. 

Axel’s own calloused hands massaged at the worn out blonde’s freed wrists, coaxing back circulation. He continued this up the muscles of Roxas’s arms, digging his thumbs in at his shoulders, which produced a beautiful sound not unlike those the younger had made moments ago.

Now freed, Roxas fully sagged backwards against his taller lover’s front like dead weight, his nude form pressed to Axel’s own dressed but disheveled one. Axel caught him easily with a fond smile, pressing another doting kiss to the damp blonde bangs. He held him there in front of the window, basking in the ashes while the darkness interspaced with pinpricks of lights laid before them, and felt like he held all that mattered. A dangerous thought.

“C’mon,” he encouraged, nudging Roxas ahead of him and in the direction of the hallway that led to the bathroom with the spacious glass shower, but keeping one possessive hand at his hip. “Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll tell you a bedtime story about my filleting.”

Roxas glanced over his shoulder as they walked, with a wry smile. “A regular Goodnight Moon.”

Axel smirked back, letting Roxas enter the bathroom first and toss a couple towels onto the vanity, his absinthe green gaze lingering on where his come was starting to drip down Roxas’s thigh. After he turned on the waterfall faucet and let the water warm, Axel turned to find Roxas perched on the edge of the jacuzzi, starting to tug down one of the sheer black stockings. Axel knelt in front of him and took over, calloused fingers feeling the silky smoothness as he slowly drew it down Roxas’s leg. He was pleased to see there weren’t any tears in the material because they would definitely be utilizing them again. Drawing the other down, the redhead pressed a light kiss to the younger’s kneecap and shared a silent but meaningful look, before standing to check the water temperature again. Satisfied, he reached in to turn on the additional wall faucets, something Roxas had incredulously pointed out the first time using this shower. Once his hand was withdrawn, he felt a tug at the dampened sleeve and found Roxas standing behind him.

“You’re probably gonna want to take this off unless showering in suits is another one of your depraved kinks,” Roxas told him in a deadpan.

Axel chuckled, tugging the tie at his neck which had already been loosened by their activities. “You know what I say, don’t knock it till you try it.”

Roxas rolled his eyes fondly, pushing the carmine suit jacket off Axel’s shoulders to fall to the floor in a heap. While his tan hands slid up the crisp white shirt, from abdomen to pectorals, Axel kicked off his shoes in the direction of the door. Now that the tension of their game had been broken, Roxas had the opportunity to do his own admiring of his lover’s form. Slowly unbuttoning the dress shirt, Roxas’s fingers brushed along the exposed muscles of Axel’s chest. As the shirt too fell away, the blonde continued his mapping over the pale flesh, over the ink that adorned that flesh, Celtic symbols and images that only confirmed Axel’s heritage and reputation.

Having shucked his trousers and socks, Axel didn’t disrupt Roxas’s admiration but tugged his lover into the shower with him, the steam already wafting around them like smoke. Once the younger was contented by his flesh cartography, he looked back up at Axel’s waiting gaze and leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss him. As they did, Roxas also tugged free the loosened tie from Axel’s hair, which fell over his shoulders in a scarlet curtain. Without disrupting their kiss, Axel backed Roxas under the spray while the younger’s fingers continued to card through his hair.

Beneath the waterfall, Roxas still kept him close and asked, “Do you have to work tomorrow too?”

“Took the day off,” Axel replied, noting Roxas’s hum of pleased surprise. “Larxene can slice and dice whoever needs carving up.”

Roxas’s coy smile preceded his accurate announcement of, “So the lobby is gonna be a slaughterhouse.”

“Probably,” Axel chuckled, turning and snatching up the sea salt body scrub. He felt the warm, wet weight at his back before he could turn back around. “Rox?”

“Mm,” the smaller boy murmured against Axel’s tattooed shoulder blade. “Nothing. Just glad you’re back.”

When he was permitted to face the barnacle of a boy, Axel turned and cupped one of his sun kissed cheeks with a level of softness that was startling to himself. He backed them both under the stream of water and leaned close to nudge Roxas’s nose with his own. What this kid did to him, it was dangerous. And like so many dangerous things, he loved it.

“You make leaving so bloody hard,” he told the blonde, completely truthfully, before kissing him and catching the droplets of water on his lips with his tongue.

“That all I make hard?” Roxas asked with a sardonic little smile.

“Trust me,” Axel grinned, getting a handful of wet golden hair and tugging it to the sound of aroused laughter. “That’s something you’re never gonna have a problem with.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
